


Outbreak

by FreyReh



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 09:50:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14517891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyReh/pseuds/FreyReh
Summary: A virus outbreak has the world in shambles. Mick meets Laurel. They share a night together, but he leaves... Will he find her again?





	Outbreak

**note #1: I got a Canaryfire prompt where the setting is Post-Apocalypse AU with the line: ”Don’t make me kick your ass!”**

**_note #2: slightly inspired by ‘The Last Ship’, a show I’ve started._ **

The world was sick.

A virus spread. Killing millions. North America was the last one hit. Despite closing the borders and turning everyone away looking for a cure, people still managed to break through the defenses. The virus spread from the coasts inward. When it came to the midwest there were more safe zones. People were now ready to shoot first and ask questions later. There was no cure yet. The best defense was staying away from everyone else. 

That was what Mick Rory was doing.

The good thing was that he was used to being alone. Used to fending for himself. He kept to the woods, giving anyone he heard a wide berth because the last thing he wanted was to be brought down by a sneeze. There was a radio transmission he’d picked up from the still functioning CDC that the virus was passed through the air so he’d found a gas mask. 

It seemed that animals were immune. 

He ran into a lot of them out here. Mostly stray dogs and cats. Some came to him looking for food. He didn’t have it in him to kill them for food. He wasn’t that desperate yet. So he’d share his fish or rabbit. He wasn’t sure why it was easier to kill a rabbit than a cat or dog. Maybe because he never had a pet rabbit growing up. Besides, the strays kept him company when he rest. 

They always left though. Save for one dumb cat. He didn’t name her. Just called her Cat. She was orange and missing an ear. Young but fierce. Mick couldn’t count the times he’d woken up to a dead something laying next to him. Usually a mouse or bird. 

So here he sat, next to a river, resting after his long journey in the night. He preferred traveling at night and finding a place to rest during the day. Last night he’d avoided a camp of about six to ten people, all of them sitting by a fire and laughing as if the world hadn’t ended. They wouldn’t make it. He knew that because anyone with a gun could’ve come up behind them and killed them for their stuff. Mick had seen a man stab someone just for a roll of crackers one time. Sighing he checked his perimeter. He was in a good spot. No one would see him here. He braced his pack against a tree and leaned against it. He couldn’t see the river through the thick grass surrounding him but he could hear it. Smell it. It lulled him to sleep.

He wasn’t sure how long he slept but it was a shout that had woken him up.

“Get back. I’m warning you,” shouted a woman.

“Awe, c’mon, we just want to talk,” said a man.

“If you take one step closer I’m going to shoot you.”

“You  _sure_ a pretty thing like  _you_ can handle-”

A shot rang off. Mick jumped to his feet. There, on the bank, was a blonde woman holding a shotgun. One man was on the ground, dead. Three more were left standing. The woman cocked the gun once more. Mick could tell she was scared. He could see it in her eyes. A part of him wanted to just walk away. Let fate decide who lived or died. But a small  _meow_ had him looking down at Cat. She was looking at the situation, too. She then looked up at Mick, as if saying they should do something. 

Stupid cat. 

“You killed Kevin!” shouted one, reaching for his own weapon.

“And unless you want to die, too, I’d suggest moving on,” said Mick, walking through the grass. The men turned to face him, turning their backs on the woman with the loaded shotgun. Being stupid and thinking a woman with a weapon wasn’t something to worry about. Mick had his own handgun, tucked into his pants, so he pulled it out now. The three men had hunting rifles. They raised them up. The woman took that as a sign to shoot. A second went down, Mick fired and shot a third. That left one. Mick could see his knees shaking. The woman pressed the hot barrel of her weapon against his back, making him yelp.

“Get out of here,” said Mick. "Don't make me kick your ass! Or worse, kill you!"

The man ran, tripping over his feet on the way. The woman watched then sighed in relief when he was gone. She looked at the other men and frowned. He saw the regret in her green eyes. She hadn’t wanted to kill them. Though, Mick felt some respect when he saw her starting to loot one of them. 

“Thank you,” she said while rummaging through a pack. Nothing was in it but dirty clothes and a half-gone bottle of whiskey. She tossed it aside but Mick eyed it. He’d take it if she didn’t. 

“Don’t mention it.”

He stepped closer and she reared up, aiming her weapon at him. He rose his hands up, then made a show of putting his gun away. She lowered hers, still not trusting him. When Cat came out with a meow and started curling around his legs, the woman smiled. 

Damn cat was ruining his reputation.

“You sick?” she asked.

“Do I  _look_ sick?” he grumbled.

“One can never be too careful.”

“I’m not,” said Mick, going for the whiskey. She let him. “You?”

“No. Not yet, anyway.”

“Hm… Matter of time, right?”

“Right,” she said, going through a second pack. She found some candy bars. She pocketed some then tossed him others. He was surprised for her generosity. If it were him he’d take it all. Then again, why wasn’t he? She eyed the third man, then Mick. Many had the unspoken rule that those who make the kill get the rewards. It was barbarianism at its finest. He just motioned for her to rummage herself while popping open the alcohol. He hummed his approval when getting that first taste. 

“Yahtzee,” said the woman, lifting up some canned provisions. 

“Anything good?” asked Mick. 

“Pears?” asked Laurel.

“I said good,” said Mick, a joke. He saw a can of corned beef hash and hummed his approval. “Ah, that’s the stuff right there.”

“I’m Laurel, by the way.”

“Mick.”

“You traveling alone, Mick? Aside from the cat,” asked Laurel, petting it as it brushed against her legs. 

“It’s better that way.”

“Sometimes.”

“And you?” asked Mick.

“I’m alone.” Laurel sighed, pulling back strands of hair that’d fallen in her face. “Trying to find my sister. She’d been on a trip with a group of friends when the worst of it hit. She couldn’t make it back home in time. Our Dad… He got sick. He was a cop so he was too busy helping other people instead of himself.”

“That sucks.”

“Anyway,” said Laurel, quickly deflecting. “Our aunt and uncle have a place in Colorado by Pagosa Springs. If Sara is alive it’s where she’d go. Or I hope so, anyway.”

“Long walk,” said Mick. 

“I’d love to use a truck but I want to avoid the main roads as much as possible. And all the people who could infect me.”

“Good plan.”

“Has worked so far,” said Laurel with a nod. They stood at an impasse. Laurel had her items and Mick had his. They should just go their separate ways. However, Laurel wanted the company and Mick didn’t want to admit it, but so did he. “There is a lake not far from here. A lot of cabins. Might be one open.”

“Might be a lot of people, too,” said Mick, unsure.

“Suit yourself,” said Laurel with a shrug. She stated walking. The damn cat followed. Mick could only sigh. He went back to that tree, filled his depleted pack with the new food, then started following Laurel. She said nothing as he fell in step with her. They walked a good two hours without talking, taking small breaks to rest their feet. It was soon dark and they got a reprieve from the sun that’d been beating down on them all day. When they made it to the lake there were people, but not a lot. They found a place that was tucked away. The windows were dark and there were no signs of life. The doors were locked and Laurel said nothing as Mick picked the lock. When the cabin was cleared they sighed in relief. 

“Hopefully no one here was ever sick,” said Mick. “That virus shit likes to linger.”

“If someone were sick here they’d still be here,” said Laurel. 

“True.”

The water still worked but the power was out. So they lit candles with matches that’d been in a drawer. They kept the curtains and blinds closed. Both took a cold shower, the water pressure nothing but a trickle but appreciated. Laurel had even taken the time to shave. Mostly because it gave her something to do but also because she wasn’t sure the next time she’d have a chance. The cabin was something she allowed herself only because she wasn’t alone. The towel had a musty smell from being locked in a closet for so long but Laurel didn’t mind as she wrapped it around her after drying her hair. She peeked out of the bathroom, checking for Mick, before rushing to the borrowed bedroom. Her clothes were dirty and she decided to wash them in the sink. She piled them all up. She searched the bedroom and found a soft shirt. She dropped the towel then slipped on the shirt, buttoning up a couple buttons to keep it in place. She found a pair of shorts that were big around the waist but small at the hem. She slipped them on anyway. She grabbed her clothes then went into the kitchen. She paused when seeing all the open cabinets then cans of food stocked on the counter. 

“You’ve been busy.”

She dumped her clothes in the sink then started the water. There was dish soap so she squirt some in there. She looked over to see that Mick was shirtless, sitting on the sofa and reading a book with the cat in his towel-clad lap. The book was Dracula.

“Is it any good?” asked Laurel, scrubbing her jeans.

“Sure,” he said, turning the page. His eyes shifted to her, traveling down the length of her legs. She felt like she was being studied. And God, she didn’t care. She kinda liked it. It was then her mind decided to do the math on the last time she’d had sex. Had it really been Tommy? That’d been ages ago. And something in her was finding Mick super attractive. Was it the cat? Him reading a book with his glasses? Perhaps the large amount of muscle? Either way, she was super interested, which was why she turned away to focus on her clothes. When done she draped them over chairs and cabinet doors. 

“There’s plenty of soap if you want to wash yours.”

He just grunted. 

Laurel busied herself, looking for items as he had. It looked like he’d found everything useful in the main rooms. She went back to the bedroom she’d claimed as hers and found a flashlight in the drawer. The bathroom had medical supplies and she brought them out as well. 

“I’m going to bed.”

“Ok.”

“Put out the candles?”

“Sure,” he said, turning another page.

Laurel sighed. She went back to her bedroom. She laid on the bed and closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure how long she lay there before falling asleep. When she opened her eyes it was still dark out. She got up and went to the living room. The candles were out and the book sat on the table. She found she was hungry and decided to treat herself to another can of pears. She got a bowl, a fork, and plopped the pears into the dish. She grabbed one of the throw blankets then opened the front door. She sighed as the cool air hit her. She say on a chair, draped the blanket over her lap, then ate her snack. She started daydreaming. Pretending that the world wasn’t in chaos and that everything was okay. Her father was alive. Her sister was safe. And the sniffles wouldn’t make you go through three days of hell and die. She stayed there another few minutes, until her pears were gone, before rising. She needed to get more sleep. She opened the door then cursed as the cat darted out. 

“No! Come back,” she hissed at it.

“Don’t worry about her,” said Mick, making Laurel jump, the fork clattering in the bowl. 

“Jesus,” muttered Laurel, letting the door close behind her.

“Sorry.” Mick nodded toward the door. “The cat likes to go out on her own. She’ll come back if and when she wants to.”

“Ok…” Laurel went to the sink and washed her bowl. Whoever owned this place might still be alive. The last thing she wanted them to come home to were ants in the sink because of a dirty dish. “Did I wake you?”

“Heard the door. Came to check it out.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t sleep much.”

“Me either…” She dried the dish, put it away, then turned around. He had on a pair of holey sweats. She wasn’t sure if they were his or the person from this cabin. He was studying her, eyes going over her like before. It was then, in that moment, Laurel decided to once again be selfish and reckless with Mick. She’d broken almost all her rules with him. Why not one more?  Her hands went to the hem of her shorts. They were loose enough she could just pull them down over her hips. Then her eyes met his as she started undoing her top. He didn’t ask her what she was doing. It was clear as crystal. By the time her top was off his bottoms were being kicked off. They met in the middle of the room. She kissed him first. He wrapped her up in his arms and lifted. She brought her legs around his hips and he carried her to his borrowed room, closing the door behind them.

.

.

.

Laurel woke up to the sun shining through the curtains and into her eyes. She winced, twisting away, arm meeting nothing but an empty bed. She sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, the small blanket that had been draped over her falling to her waist. 

“Mick?” she called out, wrapping the blanket around her. She went out into the living room and sighed. Half the food was gone. As was some of the medical supplies and the flashlight she’d found. She walked up to where she saw a piece of paper. The writing was sloppy, but at least legible. 

_Hope you find your sister. I have a friend I’m looking for in Missouri. I’m not good with words or goodbyes. I do like you, which is why I’m leaving you half the stuff. The Cat wasn’t here when I left, maybe she’ll find you instead. Last night was great. And I mean that. Sorry I’m not sticking around.  I can sometimes be an asshole. Goodluck, Laurel. -Mick_

Laurel laughed at the note. He’d left without saying goodbye. It was fine. It wasn’t like they’d been in love or anything. It was one really, really good night of sex. Something she’d needed. So now that she was sated she was ready to move on. She packed her things. The food and bandages were a great addition to what she’d had. She slipped on her boots and coat as well as a pair of sunglasses she’d found. She opened the door and there, sitting on the porch waiting for her, was the cat. 

_‘Meow…’  
_

“Hey there, girl,” murmured Laurel, bending to pet her. The cat purred. “He’s gone. Wanna come with me?”

_‘Meow.’_

_._

_._

_._

Five years passed and they finally had a cure. Mick thought that the people he’d heard on the radio had been full of shit but when he’d been curious enough to look he’d been surprised. Dr. Caitlin Snow, along with her partner Harrison Wells, had indeed manufactured a cure. They were working with what was left of the United States Army to distribute it. Mick had eagerly taken the cure, saddened that the friend he’d been looking for passed before he could. Things were finally starting to look up for him. He’d been tempted, oh so tempted, to go to Colorado after finding out his friend had died. Instead, he’d stayed in Missouri. Found himself a little spot where no one bothered him. If they tried they’d get shot. Well,  _almost_ everyone.

“Ouch!”

“Calm down, Ray, it’s just a shot,” grumbled Mick.

“Still stings,” muttered Ray. 

“Wait, do I know you?” asked Caitlin, actually there in person to distribute the cure. 

“Oh, uh, Ray Palmer! I used to be C.E.O. of Palmer Tech. Then  _this_ happened and…” Ray shrugged. “Well, here I am.”

“Oh! I remember,” said Caitlin. “Happy you’re still alive, Dr. Palmer.”

“Oh, well, me too!” said Ray with a grin. 

“We will need people like you once we all get back on our feet again,” said Caitlin. “In fact, if you’d like, we’d love to pick your brain about alternative disbursement of the cure. Harry and his colleague Cisco were thinking of a way to turn the cure into an aerosol…”

And so, Mick tagged along with the geek. Turned out a lot of people didn’t want the cure. Liked the chaos and that there were no rules. Mick had training and got appointed a bodyguard along with a few other men and women. It was something to do. And he got to be violent when needed. They traveled across the states, eventually settling in what was left of D.C.

It wasn’t until ten years after the first outbreak that the world started to function again. Thanks to Caitlin, Wells, and Ray: a planet that lost almost seventy percent of its population started to grow again. It was then that Mick decided to go east. He found himself in Pagosa Springs. The place was surrounded by snow-capped mountains and had that smalltown feel to it. The people were happy, too. Once he got to talking to them he found that the outbreak hadn’t hit them as hard. Something to do with the mountain air they believed. Who really knew. If he were Ray he’d probably have a theory. He started asking about Laurel. If they knew of a woman who had come to find her sister. At first he’d gotten a lot of no’s. He started to feel discouraged.

Guilty for leaving her behind. But at the time he thought it best. He didn’t want attachments. But, come to find, he was still attached years later. He got a coffee at a diner, and decided to ask again.

“Do you mean Dinah?” asked a woman with coiled hair and a smattering of freckles on her cheeks. Her nametag read  _Kendra._ “Dinah Lance? Her and her sister live with a couple others down the road.”

“Ah… No. Her name was Laurel. Didn’t get a last name.”

“Oh, okay, anything else I can get you?”

“Just the coffee,” said Mick, tossing down a five. “Thanks.”

Mick finished his coffee. He was ready to just leave the town and go back to D.C. Something was nagging him though. Maybe the woman lied to him about her name? Seemed like the good thing to do when trying to survive. So he asked about Dinah. She was a lawyer. Helped a lot of folks when aid started to come. Took a lot of cases outside of the area as well. Her sister, Sara, was like the Sheriff. She kept the peace and was dating the appointed Mayor Sharpe. Sara and Laurel lived down the road with a couple named Barry and Iris. Barry helped Sara down at the station and also taught the local kids at the school that just started back in session. Iris was a journalist who was keeping the town informed of the on-goings of the world. She had reopened an old printing press place and the people loved it. 

So he went to where he was guided. Stopped at a house that looked similar to many others in the area. It reminded him of that log cabin he’d stayed in with Laurel that one night. He got out of the car, the wind-chimes and chirping birds making the place whimsical as the wind carried their sounds. He walked up to the steps and stopped when an orange cat laying on one of the chairs on the porch greeted him with a familiar  _meow_.

“Cat?” The cat huffed, then looked away, still clearly pissed about him leaving. “Sonuvabitch…”

He walked up the rest of the steps, hesitated for only a second, and then rang the doorbell. A woman answered. She had bright blonde hair, cornflower blue eyes, and a badge strapped to her belt. This had to be Sara.

“Can I help you?” she asked. 

“Yeah, is Dinah here?”

“Who’s asking?” asked Sara, eyes narrowed. 

“Uh… Name’s Mick. Her and I met a while back, when the sickness hit.”

Sara stood there for a moment, wondering if his story was true. She looked him over. He had on a pair of jeans that didn’t have a hole in them for once, a grey tee, and worn boots. Her eyes lingered on his tattoos, most of them hidden from the scar tissue from his previous job before the virus hit. 

“Laurel?” called Sara over her shoulder. 

“Yeah?”

“Someone is here to see you.” Sara then looked at Mick and raised a finger at him in warning. “ Watch your step, Mick, or I’ll break something you need.”

_Shit._

“Mick?” Mick turned his gaze away from the sister to look at Laurel. She’d chopped her hair. She looked younger somehow instead of older with her off-shoulder top and  _DAMN_ he loved her legs when she wore shorts. Sara eventually left in her car, leaving just the two of them. He stood awkwardly at the door before Laurel stepped aside, pushing the screen door open. “Come in.”

“Hate to bother you. Just was in the area. Thought I’d come and check to see…”

“Yeah?”

“I see the cat is still here.”

Laurel laughed. “She followed me all the way here. Had a couple close calls but… Yeah, we made it.”

“Good.”

“And your friend?”

“Dead.”

“Oh…” She brought her hand up, rest it on his bare arm, and her heat seeped into him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Funny thing is I met up with a guy named Ray Palmer.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Laurel, biting her lower lip, her hand dropping away.

“You do?” asked Mick, confused.

“I saw you on a stream one day. When they started getting signals out again. I saw you with him and that doctor. I was happy to see you were all right.”

“Oh, yeah…” Mick rubbed the back of his neck. He was nervous and she picked up on it. She brought her hands into the pockets of her jeans and cocked her head to the side to study him. “What?”

“Why are you  _really_ here?”

He was about to lie. Changed his mind. “Just wanted to make sure you made it. Got all that needed to be done, done. Ray don’t need protecting no more so…”

They stood there for a while, those wind-chimes still making that noise, before Laurel motioned toward the kitchen. “Want some coffee?”

“I could go for a cup,” said Mick.

“Take off your shoes. Iris will kill you if you want on the floor with shoes on.”

“Ok…”

Soon, they sat at the table, drinking coffee. Things were finally back to as normal as they could be. One cup turned into two. She invited him to dinner. He met the others she lived with. Learned how they’d been with Sara, had lost some friends along the way, but ended up here as well. Mick helped Laurel with the dishes while the others went to start a fire outside to sit around. 

“Where will you go after you leave here?” asked Laurel, drying a dish.

“Not sure,” he said, scrubbing a place that refused to come clean, grunting slightly when it remained stubborn. “Maybe back to D.C. Not sure.”

“Hmm…” 

They finished the dishes in silence. Laurel flipped off some lights and Mick looked lost. He kept eyeing the door. Like he wanted to run. Laurel wasn’t sure why. Her mind went back to that note that he’d written her. Even to the night they had together when he’d been so damn tender and sweet she’d had to keep the tears of wonder at bay the entire time. She knew he felt something.

“Mick?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you leave?” she asked, serious.

“Because I was getting attached,” he answered honestly.

“And why are you here?” she prompted, moving closer.

“Because I still am.”

She kissed him.

He kissed her back.

They skipped the fire.

And when she woke up the next morning…

He was still there.

**END**


End file.
